


breaking apart

by Majinie



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Depression, Heavy Angst, Honestly this is not a happy story, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know why you would read it, M/M, Nonbinary Lafayette, Panic Attacks, Self Harm, except no real comfort, relationships falling apart, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:20:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majinie/pseuds/Majinie
Summary: They all have their ways of hurting themselves. Hercules watches them fall apart and there's nothing he can do about it.





	breaking apart

**Author's Note:**

> Look, this is a vent. I was having a shitty time and this basically wrote itself so... proceed with caution.
> 
> This is NOT part of the Trouble Always Comes In Fours verse cause I hope to keep that significantly less angsty, but it needed to be written.
> 
> Have... fun?

They each have their own ways of hurting themselves.

Hercules watches as if from behind a glass wall, like a voyeur who tries and claws but can't ever actually reach out.

He watches John come home with his lips split and his more bloody and his knuckles bruised and he diligently cleans and bandages everything he can see but he can't fix what really matters. He can't reach out and fix whatever it is John is trying to mend with blood and pain and adrenaline, so they sit in the bathroom in silence until Hercules is done and leans in to press a kiss to John's forehead, pleads _this is the last time, okay?_ and John nods and replies _I promise_ and the next day, or the day after that, he'll come home broken and torn up once again. Rinse and repeat.

Alexander is subtler, and the quieter he is, the worse Herc knows it's getting. He'll tug at his hair or toy with the elastic bands around his wrists, pulling them taught and letting them snap back until his skin is red and hot and raw, and Hercules reaches out to grasp his wrist softly, _don't do that_. Alex rolls his eyes and scoffs a little and then he'll either start an argument or switch to chewing at his nails until his fingers bleed.

Hercules silently moves the straight razors up another shelf the next time he's in the bathroom, like that'll really stop Alex when he really wants them. Alex glares at him and refuses to lose a word about the matter while he gathers up his things and storms out, and he'll come back smelling of cheap perfume or cheaper cologne and go to bed without looking at any of them.

Lafayette smiles, wide and bright and hollow, and they pretend not to notice when their smiles aren't returned while the others pretend not to see how forced their laugh is. Hercules watches them, too, curled up on the couch, aimlessly leafing through the pages of a book until Hercules nudges them gently, _hey_. Gets a smile with a spark of sincerity in it, but it drops when he continues, _we're at home, you can't breathe like this, take your binder off_ , and their eyes drop to their book, fists and jaw clenching before they get up abruptly.

They're wearing one of Hercules hoodies when they return, and when he smiles at them, he gets a tight-lipped approximation of a smile in response before they drop back onto the couch. One of the hoodies' sleeves is pushed up where they're running their too-long fingernails over their skin, incessantly, desisting for a minute when Hercules asks them to but resuming as soon as he looks away, picking at scabs and old scrapes until they're bleeding again.

That night, Alex stays in his office after coming home, with no apparent intention to come to bed, and Lafayette claims they'll be there after reading another few pages, which Hercules doesn't believe for a second, so it's just him and John.

John, whose lips taste like copper when he rolls over to kiss him, pulls Hercules on top of him and takes his breath away. It's good, for a moment while Herc manages to ignore the taste of blood and how reluctant he is to touch John because his skin is a canvas of bruises layered on top of each other, who is all rage and pain curled right under the surface but who feels so frail beneath Hercules right now. Then, John pulls back and whispers _hurt me_ , and Herc freezes, _hurt me please_ , and he's shaking his head and rolling off of John. _Go to sleep_.

He wraps his arms around the younger man, pretends he doesn't notice the way he's shaking, pretends he can't feel the tears dampening his skin because he doesn't know what to do anymore except hold on to John until his shaking subsides and his breath evens out and the tears stop. And Hercules is here, he's right here, but there's nothing he can do, trapped behind a wall of glass and watching but not reaching, not really. It's been so long since they've seen each other without it. So long since they let themselves be with each other without watching every step, unable to open up.

Herc stays where he is, listening to John breathe and make little noises in his sleep, but despite how exhausted he is - he's always exhausted these days, it feels like a constant, he barely knows anything else anymore - he just keeps staring at the opposite wall, feeling numb and tired and useless. Time trickles by like syrup; he casts a look at the digital alarm clock that says 00:12, stares at the wall for what must have been another hour but when he looks back it still says twelve minutes past midnight and he's feeling both restless and too heavy to move.

He stays.

Neither Lafayette nor Alex come to join them, and Hercules isn't sure if he's sad or just plain tired. Tired of this, of everything, of feeling like he needs to hold them together somehow when he doesn't even know how to keep himself in one piece half the time, and the more his thoughts spiral, the more convinced he is that he's not gonna catch a wink of sleep tonight.

It's past three in the morning when John turns over, rolls away from him in his sleep, and Hercules feels bereft and has nothing to hold on to anymore and disentangles himself from the blanket, shaking, shaking apart at the seams, and he leaves the room as quickly and quietly as he can manage. Barely, he registers Lafayette curled up on the couch, and since he can't see Alex anywhere he supposes he never bothered with sleeping and is in his study still. He doesn't go to check.

Instead, he heads for the bathroom, tosses his clothes onto the ground where he stands haphazardly before he climbs into the shower. His thoughts are jumbled, fragments and pieces and he's not sure what it is that makes it so hard to breathe but he needs- he needs _something_ , and he doesn't know what, so he turns the water on ice cold and gasps when it hits his shoulders, lungs constricting and muscles locking as he forces himself to turn his face into the spray. The cold burns, and he stands under the spray open-mouthed and gasping until the first shock has faded and he bows his head, silently trembling while the cold water cascades down his back, cold seeping into his bones and his core and it hurts, but that means he can't listen to whatever is going on in his head anymore so he stays, shivering and _cold cold cold_ and feeling empty, like the water washed away whatever was left to keep him going. His palms hit the wall, flat, and he lets his head hang between his shoulders with his eyes squeezed shut, breathing in quick, ragged gasps that don't feel like they're getting any air into his lungs at all.

He's not sure how long he stays that way before the water is shut off and he suddenly feels colder than before, wraps his arms around his middle and sways because he's dizzy. He wants to sink to his knees, just stay here and not think of anything or hope that things fix themselves somehow, wants to continue to not care, but there's a pair of steadying arms looping around his waist, surprisingly warm against his chilled skin, and then Lafayette's voice is murmuring something to him while they lead Hercules out of the shower, let's him sink to the floor there because too heavy for them to hold up on their own when his knees give in. It's only then that he realises that he's crying, hacked, choking sobs that shake his entire body.

He can hear Lafayette calling for Alex, and then there's hands on the sides of his face, tilting his head up to see Alex' dark eyes, underlined with shadows, blurred from his tears, lips moving, _breathe, hey, breathe with me, it's gonna be okay, you're okay_. Lafayette stays pressed up against his back, warm and soft, and a little later John is there, draping a towel over his shoulders and rubbing them gently.

Distantly, Hercules mourns the fact that this is probably the closest, the most peaceful they have been in forever. They were never perfect, but they used to be so much better than this and he doesn't know what happened to them.

He lets them guide him to get up once he can breathe again, lead him to their bed where they curl up together, act like they're gonna be okay. He remembers he used to believe that and it almost makes him laugh; instead, he curls closer to Alex with a shaky breath and pretends he buys his whispered reassurances, even when Alex still smells like cheap French perfume that he knows _none_ of them use.

Almost, he manages to imagine things are the way they used to be; when he wasn't scared to go out because he's never sure what he'll find when he comes back, now, back when he wasn't afraid all the time, of what, he's not even sure anymore.

Hercules falls asleep between all three of his partners, no longer cold, manages to feel nearly safe for once as he does.

He wakes up alone, and he can't say he's surprised.

**Author's Note:**

> why would you read this to the end oh god


End file.
